


Give and Take

by slow-smiles (the_irish_mayhem)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Captain Swan Cocktober, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s06e07 Heartless, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 19:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16414304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_irish_mayhem/pseuds/slow-smiles
Summary: Canon-compliant post 6x07 smut. Later that night, Emma’s hand won’t stop shaking. A bit of praise kink. My second entry for @cscocktoberfest





	Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts forever, so Cocktober gave me the motivation to finish it. Full disclosure, I never watched s6 and I don't really ever intend to so as far as I know this is canon-compliant; if there are any discrepancies, sorry!

When they leave the Charming’s apartment that night, it’s not without copious complaining beforehand. Emma hadn’t wanted to leave the apartment where her father lay comatose in bed as Snow cuddled and tried to soothe a baby Neal whose crying had picked up when he realized his father wouldn’t respond to the pokes to the chest.

(Killian realized with a pang that it was a game Dave played with his son. Neal poking him would provoke a reaction, dramatic and giggle-inducing, that could entertain Neal for hours on end.)

(Now he just slept on, dead to the world.)

(All around, not a particularly banner day in Storybrooke.)

Regina and Emma had been trying to help, suggesting possible solutions or attempting to take Neal from Snow’s very resolute grasp, and Henry was buzzing about the kitchen trying to do  _something_ , but Killian could see Snow starting to fray at the edges. 

Their night had ended when Snow had finally set Neal down in his bassinet, and all but shouted, “None of you are doing anything useful!” The commotion in the apartment immediately ceased, save Neal’s heart-rending whimpers. “It is almost midnight, and I am exhausted. My son is not going to stop crying because you all are being too loud, and I am not going to get to sleep tonight knowing that my husband is under a sleeping curse. So please, all of you, just leave and come back tomorrow.”

Killian quietly suspected that she’d very much like to break down but was unwilling to do so in front of company, even if the company was family. He can certainly relate to that.

Emma murmured to Snow, “I can stay upstairs, in case...” but Snow was already shaking her head.

She took her daughter’s shoulders in hand and inhaled shakily before saying, “Go home with Killian. We will be all right.” Her eyes were watering, so it didn’t lend much credence to her words. She’d sniffled then before putting on a smile. “We’ll figure this out tomorrow, and at least some of us need to be well-rested for it.”

Killian looks down and notices that Emma’s hand is shaking, and she clearly wants to hide it from her mother as she quickly moves to hug Snow and keeps her shaking hand far away from her.

Soon, Henry and Regina are off to their home, and Emma and Killian are off to theirs.

He stops her before she gets into the bug, taking her shaking hand in his and bringing it up to his chest. He runs his thumb along hers, but it doesn’t stop the quaking.

She looks lost and broken and it hurts his heart to see her like this. His story time had apparently not been as effective as he’d hoped.

“I’m sorry, love, I thought today helped,” he offers.

She softens at that, but her hand is still shaking. “It did,” she says, “It really did, but that was...” She swallows. “That was before we failed and forced my parents to hand their hearts over to the Evil Queen.”

He sighs, “Emma, no one’s failed yet. They’re still alive, and that means they can be saved. I told you that you can overcome anything and I meant that.”

“I want to believe that too,” she says.

She leans into him, tucking her head beneath his chin and keeping her hands curled against his chest. He can still feel the one shaking, and he closes his eyes against his disappointment in himself. He should be able to help her.

“Let’s get you home, love.” He leans back enough to catch her eyes, “Do you think you can drive? We can walk if you can’t.”

She nods. “Yeah, I can drive.”

He holds her hand all the way home.

When they arrive home, she’s still shaking. “God, this is pretty freaking annoying when it doesn’t stop,” she says, trying to make a joke but her heart is clearly not in it.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” he suggests, only letting go of her hand as long as it takes him to get out of the car and back to her side.

They get inside and trudge straight up the stairs, not bothering to remove their shoes by the door.

Inside the room, Emma’s hand is still shaking. She pulls away from him and sits at the foot of the bed, her hands curled loosely in her lap. “I don’t know how to stop this.” She looks up at him, desperation and sadness in her eyes. “I don’t know how to stop  _anything_.”

He kneels in front of her, not taking his eyes from hers. “I know you’re scared. I know we might not know how to save your parents right now, but we can figure it out. We always do.”

“But if I can’t stop the Evil Queen, then how am I supposed to stop the hooded figure in my visions? If I can’t save my parents, how am I going to save myself?”

He leans up to kiss her and disrupt her speech, and Emma leans into him, a move that makes his chest hurt in the best of ways.

He pulls away, but only just. His forehead still rests against hers, their noses brushing with every other breath. “This moment, Emma,” he says. “We don’t know what will happen tomorrow or the next day, so I want you to focus on right here, right now.” He stands fully, gently guiding her to lay back on the bed. “There’s nothing outside of this bedroom,” he continues as she settles back into the sheets. “Just us,” he finishes as he settles beside her, propping himself up on his left elbow so he can look down at her.

Her attention is rapt, but he wants to make the worry disappear from her eyes, wants to smooth the creases between them with kisses until the dimples from her smile light up her face.

“You deserve a moment of peace, yeah? Just a moment where you don’t have to worry about anything. Let this be that moment, love.”

His right hand plucks at the hem of her shirt, just barely grazing the smooth skin of her lower abdomen with the backs of his fingers.

“Will you let me help you?” he asks, aware of the grittiness in his voice. He knows she likes it, so he doesn’t hesitate to play it up for her, let the rasp of his voice wash across the skin of her neck just below her ear.

The breath she lets out is soft, a caress, a gentle statement of pleasure and desire, but he wants to hear her say it. Her hips cant upwards, pressing towards his gently questing fingers, but he refuses to press harder or push deeper beneath her shirt. A sharp breath now, one of frustration and wanting.

“Say it,” he prods, breaking eye contact to lay his lips against her pulse point. He care barely feel it beat against his lips and gives a teasing lick up her jaw before pulling back.

She’s staring up at the ceiling, her expression hard to decipher. She closes her eyes and nearly whispers, “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

That pulls a little laugh from her, prompting his own smile in turn.

He knows he’s being a little difficult, but he has a feeling being a little difficult is going to be the only way he can get through to her. Her hand is still shaking, and he needs to make it stop. This is the only way he knows how.

“Helping with the... the moment of peace,” she says, and finally tilts her head to look at him. “The here and now.”

“Anything for you, darling,” he says, and rewards her with a heavy stroke upwards with his palm, not bothering to tease before he takes one of her breasts in hand. They’re both still fully clothed, so the soft fabric denies him the skin to skin contact, but he presses the flesh up, cups her in his hand, draws his thumb across her hardening nipple.

Emma reaches for the back of his neck, and to his consternation he can still feel it shaking as she pulls him down to her lips. As their lips part and their tongues move in a wet slide, Emma shifts, pulling him fully on top of her and tangling their legs in such a way that puts one of his thighs between hers.

The way she starts to gently grind her hips into him sends a shot of such unfettered arousal through him he can’t help but moan into the kiss and then break away. His hand is still at her breast, plucking her nipple as he tells her, “That’s a good girl. Take what you need. I’m yours.”

Another sharp pant from Emma as she pulls back abruptly, flinging her shirt and bra off at a record-breaking pace. She disentangles their legs, depriving him of her delightful thrusts and reaches for the zippers for her boots. “You better be getting naked too, buddy.”

He chuckles, sneaking a quick look at her hand. No tremors. If his arousal was intoxicating, the sight of her still hand was impossibly immense relief. “Aye aye, Captain,” he answers.

He shucks his jacket, vest, and shirt in quick succession, ignoring the small voice of protest when he simply flings them to the floor, going to remove the brace that holds his hook in place, the contraption pulling away from the well-worn callouses across his shoulders and down his arm.

They hit the floor with a muted thud against the carpet, but they don’t drown out Emma’s quiet, “Damn it,” that he hears from behind him.

He quickly turns towards her. She’s laid back on the bed, boots now gone along with her shirt and bra. Shirtless Emma is a sight to behold, for certain, but his eyes are drawn away from her pale skin, coral-pink nipples, and down to where her hand rests over the button of her jeans.

It’s shaking again.

His heart falls.

“Oh, Emma.”

His heart falls even further when he sees her frustration pooling in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she croaks, her opposite hand coming up to cover her eyes.

He sighs. He lays back down and rolls across the bed. He nuzzles against the fingers across her face. “Let’s see that beautiful face, love. Come on.”

It takes a few moments for her to drag her hand from her face, revealing red-rimmed eyes but no tears have fallen.

“There she is,” he says softly.

That pulls a smile from her, watery, but brilliant. She gives him a short, choked laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he assures her, brushing her hair away from her face with gentle motions.

“Can we just--” She rolls onto her side to face him again. “Can we just do this?”

He strokes a hand through her hair. “We can do whatever you’d like--”

Emma surprises him with a kiss, aggressive, wet and fast and intense. She pushes him onto his back with ease, and he moans into her mouth. He quite likes it when she seizes control. She moves on from his lips, sloppily moving across his cheek and down his neck. “Gods, love,” he manages, “Love you. So much.”

She starts grinding down on him in earnest, seemingly trying to fuck him through the layers between them. His hand and wrist fall to her hips, encouraging and eager.

His cock is straining against the fabric, and he wants nothing between them--wants to tear their clothing off, throw her down on the bed and show her just how much she loves her. Truly  _fuck it_  into her, make her understand with each forceful thrust of his hips that he cherishes every piece of her,  _will_  cherish every piece of her as long as he can.

“Emma,” he says, “Emma, love, just let me--” He reaches down to where her hips still rock roughly against his, going for the button on his jeans.

She catches his hand in hers. “No, let me.” Her hand is completely steady. 

Killian grins. “By all means,” he replies, going so far as to tuck his hands behind his head to show her that she’s in control.

Emma gives him a small smile, rolling off him, but only just so that she can shuck her remaining clothing. Before Killian can make a move to remove the last of his garments, Emma is doing it for him, wordlessly encouraging his hips up and dragging his pants down in one motion. He’s already half hard, and Emma crawling back astride him means that it won’t take him long to get all the way there.

His hand and wrist find their way to her thighs, and he lets out a strangled sigh when she lowers her wet core against him. “Gods,” he gasps. “You’re so wet. So beautiful and wet for me.”

She begins to grind herself down on him, and Killian gasps, tilting his head back against the pillow at the feel of her against him.

“Gods, I wish you could see yourself,” he murmurs, running his hand up to a breast. He draws his finger along the underside, just barely brushing her nipple.

Despite her soft moans and the flood of arousal coating his length, Killian still notices something is not quite right. Her hand is still trembling (less now, at least) and her eyes are closed tightly, and her brow is furrowed, like she’s retreating into herself.

That just won’t do, because as strong as Emma is, he knows that she has a deep need that she rarely voices, or even acknowledges, that craves affection, craves adoration and love. And as rarely as she admits it to herself, she admits it even less often to others.

Killian sits up, startling her from her spiral into herself, and wraps his arms around her waist. “Don’t do that,” he says, kissing her softly once.

“Do what?”

“Hide yourself away like that.”

She pauses, confusion clouding her face a moment before it clears in understanding. When it does, her entire body relaxes into him, her chest pressing into his, allowing his arms to pull her closer. She leans her head down to her shoulder.

“It’s okay to want to let go for a little while,” he says.

She doesn’t answer for a moment, but her fingers tickling along the skin of his back and shoulders tells him she’s listening.

He turns his head so that his lips are in her hair, and he presses a small kiss to her scalp. “I’ll take care of you. You deserve it, love.” He pulls away from her a little, prompting her to lift her head away from his shoulder and meet his gaze. “Can I, Emma?”

Her cheeks go bright red as she nods, revealing one of her deepest, most intimate desires leaving her feeling exposed. raw.

Well that simply won’t do, and Killian leans in to kiss her, trying to pour every ounce of emotion he has into the kiss. It’s reminiscent of their second kiss outside Granny’s, years ago now, hundreds of kisses ago, but he remembers it like yesterday.

He urges her to the side and onto her back. She goes easily, opening her legs to let him settle between.

He’s completely hard for her, can feel the heat of her sex against his cock, but he holds himself back. There will be plenty of time for that in a moment. His lips venture away from her mouth, trailing across her jawline and down her neck. He devotes himself to reddening her collarbones, with lips and tongue and teeth, and she is positively writhing beneath him now, making small, impatient noises as her hips press up towards his.

“That’s it, love,” he says, “I love how much your body craves mine. It’s bloody incredible, that you want me as much as I want you.”

He travels down to her nipples, pinked up and stiffened in the cool air of their bedroom. He laves a tongue across one and lets his breath stiffen it further under his mouth. “Love your breasts,” he murmurs as he drags his lips sloppily in the valley between them. “The way you flush red all the way down,” he continues before covering the other nipple with his lips, sucking it firmly.

“Please,” Emma gasps, her hips moving a little more insistently.

His only response to her plea is to release her nipple and continue his lips’ path down her stomach.

When he reaches the place she’s wet and wanting, he looks up at her; her gaze is wild with lust, but under that there’s something else. There’s love and trust and no longer that guarded edge he’d seen earlier.

Her hands are both still. One moves to cover her own breast, kneading and tweaking slowly, and the other goes to Killian’s head, smoothing through his hair and scraping lightly along his scalp.

“What do you want, darling?” he asks, already knowing he answer and easing a thigh over his shoulder in preparation.

“I want your mouth on me,” she says, a bit breathless, and Killian is struck with a swell of pride in his chest because he remembers the early days in their relationship when it was so difficult for her to reveal her physical desires to him, let alone her emotional secrets that she’d barely begun to share.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and lowers his lips to her cunt.

He barely hears Emma’s moan over the sound of his own. Her salty slickness on his tongue is addictive, the sounds she makes as he begins to eat her out even more so.

Her thigh on his shoulder helps open her up, so he has free access to her clit to swipe across with his tongue a few teasing times as he makes a show of fully exploring her. He dips into her opening a few times before venturing back up to her clit.

He pushes her harder now, focusing his efforts on her clit and begins to suck and lick with more vigor. Her hand tightens in his hair, and he grins. “Love the way you hold tight when I taste you,” he murmurs. “I love the way your hips start to move against me when you’re getting close.”

“Killian,” she whines as he draws her clit into his mouth again. Her hips press up in time with the pulsating sucks, and he has to grind his hips down into the mattress to relieve some of the pressure building in his groin.

Her hand trails from his hair to his cheek, urging him to look up at her. He does so with a parting, firm suck to her clit that has Emma gasping.

“I want you inside me when I come,” she pants.

He grins. “Oh, gladly.”

He rises quicker than a blink and his mouth hovers over hers. “Do you want to know how you taste, Emma?” Her mouth chases his, but he backs off, keeping his lips just out of reach. “Imagine,” he rasps, “how I feel when I look at that pretty cunt of yours and I can see it’s positively dripping with how much you want me. Imagine it. Can you feel it love?” He dips his mouth closer to hers, teasing her before pulling away once more. “Can you feel how much I want you? How I ache to taste the heaven in your skin, how I yearn for the warmth of your body and your heart?”

Emma nods frantically. “I can feel it. God, I feel it.”

He dips down and kisses her then, sloppy and messy and soft, letting her steal the vestiges of her arousal from his lips. It’s a fair trade for the sensation of her moaning against him, for the feeling of her wrapping her legs around his waist and pushing her hips into his, grinding her core against his cock.

“Gods,” Killian gasps. “I love you so much. I want you to feel it when I fuck you into this bloody mattress.” He reaches for the head of the bed, grabbing one of their plumper pillows for the task he has in mind.

He taps on her hip, silently signaling her to lift up, and he positions the pillow under her hips.

“I want you to feel how much I love you,” he says again, “I want you to listen to every word I say when I’m inside you.” He gives her a last, parting kiss before he pushes back onto his knees. He takes one of her ankles in his hand and pushes it outward, using his wrist to do the same with the other, leaving her completely spread and vulnerable to him.

When he presses inside, he nearly comes when he feels how tight she is, her wet heat squeezing delightfully at this angle. He doesn’t move yet; he knows that once he does, much of his coherence will fly out the window, and he wants her to understand him.

“You’re not just the Savior, not just the product of True Love,” he tells her, leaning down to press a kiss to her sternum. “You’re Emma Swan. You’ve the most resilient heart I’ve ever known. You forgive, you see the best in those around you, no matter what they’ve done to wrong you.” He steals a glance up at her to find her watching him intently, her gaze following his every move. He trails his lips to the left and tenderly licks over her nipple. “You managed to bring a man who was a hundred shades of terrible back from the brink of self destruction just by virtue of being  _you_.” He smooths his hand up and down her leg, relishing the trembling he feels there, and ventures over to her other breast, giving it the same treatment as the last before he looks up. “I didn’t fall in love with an infallible Savior, I fell in love with an amazing woman who keeps getting back up when she’s knocked down. She inspires greatness in others because she herself is great.”

He presses up to brush a kiss over her lips. He lets go of her ankle for a moment to brush an escaped tear off her cheek.

“You give so much of yourself to others,” he continues, and begins to move his hips. Small movements, but they make the suffused pleasure begin to spark. “I can at least try to give you back even a fraction of the love you give me.”

Emma looks shocked in the best of ways, her mouth slightly slack and tenderness in her eyes. No more tears fall, but it’s a near thing.

He leans back once more, gaining a firmer hold of her ankle with his hand, and balancing the other with his wrist. His pace increases, the next step in a steady build. Emma’s eyes fall closed, her mouth gaping wider in a silent gasp of pleasure. Her fingers grasp feebly against the sheets. Her chest rises and falls in rapid pants.

Gods, he feels like he has so much else to say to her, so many more words he could use to attempt to make her understand the depth of his feeling for her. It goes so much deeper than romantic love. Before he loved her, he respected her as an adversary. Then, he respected her as an ally. He admired her as a leader. Everything about her seemed worthy of note, worthy of attention and care and praise, and yet somehow she always seemed to be starved for those very things.

Killian was only too happy to fill that void.

He picks up his pace again incrementally, pulling out further and pushing in harder with each stroke. With this angle, he hits that place inside her that has her moaning for him in no time.

“Fuck, Killian,” Emma gasps when his strokes pass from  _steady_  into  _hard_.

With her legs spread as they are, she cannot fuck her hips back into his. She has no choice but to lay back and take him. Despite her usual preference to be an active participant in their lovemaking, she’s certainly not complaining now.

Her moans are deeper now. He knows that she was close when he was eating her out before, so she’s only been climbing higher since then. She usually needs some stimulation on her clit before she can fall over that edge. One of her hands tweaks and massages a breast. The other begins its descent downwards.

Much as he likes to watch her touch herself, he lets go of her ankle to catch her hand before it reaches its destination.

“Let me,” he says. He quickly hooks his arm around her knee, drawing her leg in towards his chest so that he can maintain the deep penetration and still reach her clit.

He runs his fingers along her swollen labia before running down to feel where his cock pushes into her. It’s a self-indulgent moment, but it allows him to gather some wetness before he trails back up to her clit and starts rubbing over it in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck,” Emma says, high-pitched and breathy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“That’s it, beautiful,” he encourages. “Come for me. Let me take care of you.”

“I’m--” Emma cuts herself off, breath catching in her throat and hips twitching. He can feel her starting to clench within. Not long now, he knows.

He’s been staving off his own orgasm, wanting to watch her fall first, too focused on her pleasure to worry too much about his own. But with her little, high-pitched gasps and bitten off sentences signaling her impending orgasm, he can feel his own building.

“Come on, love,” he encourages, swiping against her clit harder with each pass.

She’s a treasure to behold in the throes of ecstasy. Her golden hair spread on a pillow and mussed from their motion. Her hands molding her breasts, pink nipples peeking out from between her fingers. A slight glimmer of sweat across her belly. The quivering thighs, protesting being held open for so long when he knows she wants to clamp down and ride out her orgasm with him held tight against her.

And he desperately wants to feel her skin against his. As much as this position allows him to go deep inside her, he misses her chest against his. Misses feeling connected at every point.

When she finally comes, she does so with a sharp wail, her eyes wide open and affixed to his face.

It’s her watching him that finally breaks his resolve. He drops her legs and collapses his torso against hers. He kisses her because he can’t help himself. She kisses him back fervently, and he does his best to maintain a steady enough rhythm to help her ride out her orgasm. His steady pace falters when she ruthlessly squeezes her internal muscles, and breaths in his ear, “Come for me, Killian,” in a voice that’s husky with sex. It finally does him in, and he comes, pressing as deeply into her as he can get.

He manages to thrust a handful more times as he rides out the last sparks of pleasure. They fall still. Emma wiggles and extracts the pillow from where it lay beneath her and wraps her arms around him, encouraging him to put his full weight on her. He obliges gratefully and relaxes into the cradle of her hips, resting his head against her collarbone.

There are a few seconds of quiet before Emma says, “I love you so much.” She twists so that she can kiss his forehead. “Thank you.”

He feels the pull of sleep starting to nibble at the edge of his awareness, so he pulls out of her. He rolls onto his back, but doesn’t look away from her.

“I love you, too,” he replies. “And we should rest while we can.”

Her answering smile is soft. “I think I’ll be able to now.”

Killian smiles back in kind. “Good.”


End file.
